


Grudge (I'm Bad at Feelings)

by ghostly_perfection



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Basil is Embarrassed, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Simon Snow Can Hold A Grudge, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostly_perfection/pseuds/ghostly_perfection
Summary: "Snow, you have such a horrible addiction to scones. What's so good about them? Why do you even eat them? You really should stop." I say.Snow looks at me, glares, and stands up, dropping his scone on the plate. He walks into his bedroom, and I hear him rifling through the doors. Then he comes back, and turns towards me. He lifts up his cross, and then slips the chain over his neck. He made a big show of it, and didn't even tuck it into his shirt, like normal. Then he goes and plops down on the couch, and spreads his legs out over it, and picks up his scone.------------------------------------------------This is literally fifth year all over again. I feel like I'm going insane, I haven't kissed Snow for five days. Five. Fucking. Days.------------------------------------------------Aka Baz said something that he regrets, (He can't touch Simon without being irritated) Simon can hold a grudge, and, well, just a cute little one shot.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 90





	Grudge (I'm Bad at Feelings)

**_June 3rd_ **

* * *

Simon and I were arguing again.

I don't really know what we're arguing about, we just are. 

Snow is sitting on the couch, eating a scone. _A sour cherry scone._

Simon has a horrible addiction to scones, I don't know how he's not three hundred pounds yet. (He's 154, to be exact.) 

"Snow, you have such a horrible addiction to scones. What's so good about them? Why do you even _eat_ them? You really should stop." I say.

Snow looks at me, glares, and stands up, dropping his scone on the plate. He walks into his bedroom, and I hear him rifling through the doors. Then he comes back, and turns towards me. He lifts up his cross, and then slips the chain over his neck. He made a big show of it, and didn't even tuck it into his shirt, like normal. Then he goes and plops down on the couch, and spreads his legs out over it, and picks up his scone.

I'm put off with him, and I storm out the door, stomping and all. When I slam it, (Which I shouldn't have, it's eleven at night and the neighbors will complain...) I stop and lean against the door for a second, and hear Simon laughing. The sound of his laugh is beautiful, as always, but it pisses me off more, for some unknown reason.

I leave the apartment, and get in my car. I drive around for an hour or so, and then I go to the Epping Forest. It's a nature reserve, and a woodland. I find a deer, and drain it. I hunt mindlessly, trying not to think, really. I find a few foxes, and drain them. Then I go back to my car, and drive to London. It takes an hour or so, but it feels like forever. I'm trying not to think about Snow, but it's like trying to ignore the fact that I'm a vampire. You can't. 

When I get back, I go and shower, because I have leaves, twigs, and moss in my hair, and blood under my fingernails. I haven't hunted like this in a while.

* * *

**_June 6th_ **

I'm in the kitchen, trying not to bang my head on the cabinets. I just grabbed Simon's hand a few seconds ago, and it felt like I had chicken pox, or like I had touched a live wire. It irritated me so much that I jumped back. Simon looked like it took work to not laugh. I was shaking my arm, and since I had drank so much blood the night before, (I've been hunting every night, and I feel like my insides are sloshing around) I even blushed. I had my face in my hand, and I looked like the picture of embarrassment. 

My arm still is irritated, and I feel like pulling it off. The rest of my body has calmed down, which is better than what it was. I glance over at Simon, briefly, but he catches me looking and smirks. _Damn you, Simon Snow._ Simon was talking to Penny, she had just gotten back from her parent's house, but you'd think that she'd been gone for a year based on Simon and Penny's conversation. 

* * *

**_June 7th_ **

My arm's gone back to normal.

I slept on the couch last night.

Snow is still wearing his cross. 

_Fuck me._ (Literally. Simon should.) 

If only I hadn't made that stupid comment about Snow's scone eating habits. I wouldn't feel like I'm fifteen again. 

This is literally fifth year all over again. I feel like I'm going insane, I haven't kissed Snow for five days. _Five. Fucking. Days._

I just want to rip his cross off, and kiss him and fuck him and make him whine. (I still haven't fucked him. Yet.) ( _Yet is good._ ) 

Snow is watching _Star Wars: The Last Jedi._ He's recently decided that he loves Star Wars, and he's watched them all. Five times. 

I look over at him, (I can right now, he's completely engrossed in his movie) and study his blond curls, and his fucking blue eyes, and his thin, muscular, body. 

_So fucking handsome._

And I can't even kiss him. Well, not without making my whole body feel like it's buzzing.

* * *

**_June 10th_ **

I can't take it any longer. I need to kiss Simon fucking Snow. 

He's sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and we're watching _The Hunger Games._

I've decided that I'm just going to rip his cross off of him, burns be damned. 

I wait until Simon's completely into the movie, and then I jump on him. 

I rip off his cross, which sends a horrible jolt of pain into my hand. (It felt worse than the last time I ripped his cross off. Huh.) 

I pull him on top of me, and kiss him like there's no tomorrow. 

He kisses me back, like the moron that he is. 

I think he must be a much better kisser than I am, he's doing this nice thing with his jaw, always, and it feels like heaven. (Even though my hand feels like someone put a stake through it.) 

Ah, finally. _Fucking ecstasy._

* * *

**_June 13th_ **

I'm making dinner. 

Simon is sitting on the counter, watching me. 

I grab a knife, and when I do, it sends a searing white-hot pain through my hand. 

I drop the knife, making a hissing noise, and clutch my hand. Simon jumps off the counter, and walks over to me. He grabs my hand, gently, and I turn my head away from him. I'm embarrassed, there's no saying I'm not. I'm a wuss, and I let pain get the best of me. 

Simon is still looking over my hand. 

My hand is horrible. There's a almost black burn where the cross touched me, and around it it's red, and then it's purple. It hurts like hell, but I've been trying to avoid it. I've also been using my left hand, which isn't easy because my right is my dominant. 

Simon lifts my hand up to his mouth, and kisses it. Then he drops it and goes over to the fridge, and pulls out an ice pack. Then he pushes it into my hand. I lean in to his touch, and he kisses my forehead. 

He pulls me over to the couch, and lays me down on top of him. We lay there for a while, until I fell asleep. 


End file.
